Silver Islet to Rossport

Just got back from paddling from Silver Islet to Rossport with 5 friends.  Our route was about 80 miles along the northern shore of Lake Superior in Ontario. It's a well known kayaking destination among Lake Superior paddlers, though perhaps not so well known to paddlers farther afield.  Numerous islands along the route add interest and variety, as well as providing safe harbors and options for finding protected water in different wind conditions.  The islands and peninsulas are mostly undeveloped crown land.  

Six of us met up in Grand Marais and then transferred boats, trailer, people and gear to Dave's truck for the last stretch of the trip so that we would only have to pay to shuttle one vehicle from our launch point to Rossport.   At Canadian customs, the border officer examined our passports and asked routine questions.  Then he said "The only one I have any concerns about is Jeffrey."  Long pause.  "His birthday is next Saturday."  Border officer humor?

We stayed at the Grann Motel in Pass Lake on Friday night, met Alfred, the proprietor and master of dry humor, and enjoyed two meals of splendid truck stop food before leaving the next morning. 

Day 1:  The final leg of our land journey took us down the Sibley Peninsula to our launch point in the town of Silver Islet.  It seemed like a sleepy town … mostly vacation homes these days, and the restored general store didn't open until noon.  A few people launched motor boats and went fishing while we were loading up our boats.  

Silver Islet is also the name of a small island just offshore, where a vein of almost pure silver was "found" in 1868 (the Ojibwe had known of the silver all along).  A lucrative commercial mining operation ensued, and a great deal of engineering effort went into holding back the lake waters as they dug deeper and deeper, ultimately over 1,100 feet down.   Pumps kept the mine from flooding until year that the expected shipment of coal to fuel the pumps failed to arrive before winter closed in.  When the coal ran out and the pumps stopped in 1884, the mine flooded and was never re-opened.  

The only other kayaker we saw the entire trip landed while we were getting ready and introduced himself as Glen Smith from Saskatchewan.  He was paddling along the watershed from Alberta east in stages.  This year he was going from Thunder Bay to Sault Ste. Marie on the east side of Lake Superior.  He had left from Thunder Bay the previous day and was stopping to use the phone at the general store.

We set off around 10:00, and paddled east along the southern tip of the peninsula, then had a 4 mile crossing to Porphyry Island.  Looking behind us, the Sleeping Giant shape of the mesas on the land mass became apparent as we gained the perspective of a few miles.  One of the stories is that the giant form lying on his back is Nanabijou, the Ojibwe spirit who was turned to stone when the secret of the silver mine was disclosed to white men.

To our right across the lake to the south we could see Isle Royale, and in the far southeast the Porcupine Mountains in Michigan.  Ahead of us was the lighthouse on the southern tip of Porphyry.  We headed north of Hardscrabble Island to paddle between Porphyry and Edward Islands.  The weather couldn't have been better, and we enjoyed the blue skies, the rock formations, the boreal forests, and the calm water. 

After lunch we paddled on to Magnet Island and continued north, with a tail wind behind us.  We stopped at a campsite on an island east of the Black Bay peninsula where Jeff and Michelle had camped previously.  In a vivid example of how much and how quickly the lake can change its surroundings, the large beach had washed away, leaving a much smaller scrap of beach to camp in.  It was getting close to 3:00 in the afternoon, and we listened to the weather and discussed how to proceed. If the winds from the south picked up as forecasted, the low site on the southern end of the island was exposed.  If we continued north, we would eventually find a campsite big enough to pitch 5 tents, but there was no guarantee how soon.  Most of the islands we had passed had rocky shores, and we hadn't seen many cobble and gravel beaches so far (though they appeared to be more common as we continued north).  The next known campsite we were absolutely sure of finding was Swede Island, 8 nautical miles away.

We finally decided to backtrack to a small cove on Magnet Island, which would provide more protection from the wind.  As was typical, the site was a narrow beach, backed by forest.  There were fairly fresh moose tracks along the shore, birds calling from the woods, and a few mergansers swimming along the shore.  Looking out from the little bay, we could see the Number 10 light house, where we would head the next day.

Tony's boat valets must have gotten his order confused, because they didn't show up that night or any other night.  But we managed to set up camp without them, followed by happy hour, dinner, slingshot games, and finding Wilson, after which we turned in.  That far north and on the western edge of the eastern time zone, it was light until after 10:00, but that proved no barrier to falling sleep. 

Day 2:  In the morning I managed to lose one of my contact lenses, which probably wasn't a bad thing, as switching to glasses simplified the morning routine immensely.  Once underway, we headed towards the lighthouse on Number 10 Island, west of Shaganash Island.  The weather was good, though there were some interesting swells coming from the south.  Farther to the south were some dark storm clouds that we watched closely as we started a two mile crossing, but they didn't come our way.

We landed on Number 10 and explored.  The lighthouse itself was locked so we couldn't go inside, but there was a foundation from a house nearby that might have been the keeper's home.  There were plenty of campsite options in the vicinity.

We continued northeast to Swede Island, home of the famous sauna.  Roger Bailey and friends had built a cabin, sauna, picnic table, outhouse, and dock on the island in the 1960s.  The cabin had burned in the 1970s and had been rebuilt.  It was aging, but functional.  We decided to stop for the evening, even though it was still early.  

Wilson had come along with us from Magnet Island, and we found a companion for him under the cabin after we set up camp, whom we named Harriet.

There was a log book with several years of visitor entries, including previous ISK trips.  Tony updated it with an entry for our group.  Glen, the paddler we had met in Silver Islet, had stopped in earlier that day, signed the log, and continued on. There seemed to be fewer than a dozen log entries each year.  And as the days passed, we were surprised at just how few people traveled the area, having seen only a handful of sailboats, cruisers, and fishing boats. 

After dinner we discussed our route and destination for the next day.  Jeff had hoped to explore Sheesheeb Bay, about 4 nautical miles deep.  We were about 55 nautical miles from our destination at that point, having backtracked to camp the first night and stopped early to take advantage of the Swede Island camp and sauna the second night.  We wanted to be landing in Rossport by Saturday morning, and the group agreed that we would like to be in the vicinity of the Rossport by Thursday night.  If all went well, we would paddle around the Ross islands on Friday.  It was now Sunday night, so allowing for sightseeing, we needed to travel about 15 nautical miles each of the next 4 days;  more if we wanted to allow for a wind day.

Adding 10 nautical miles to get to Shesheeb Bay seemed like a long detour, and the group eventually agreed to plan a long day the next day and try to get to CPR Slip on St. Ignace, 25 statute miles away.  The slip is a former executive retreat, and trip members who had been there on previous visits told of well built facilities open to all and a friendly camaraderie among the power boaters and kayakers who stayed there.

Next up that evening was a sauna for the guys, while Michelle and I watched the evening darken and the sun set from the beach on the other side of the camp. 

Day 3:  In the morning (another beautiful day) we paddled northeast between Spain and Borden islands, spotting the sauna on the east side of Spain.  Farther along we passed some mine ruins.  Eventually a channel opened out into Loon Harbor, which has the appearance of a lake bounded by Spain, Borden, and Lasher Islands.  We spotted an otter, and listened to a very vocal loon in the protected water.  The last time Jeff and Michelle had been here, it had been foggy and quite mystical, in contrast to the calm water and sparkling sunlight we enjoyed this time.

Heading north out of Loon harbor, we continued up the channel past Pugsley and Coutlee Islands, stopping on the north point of Broudeur Island for a break.  There was a huge variety of geology and rock formations on the different islands, and looking down into the clear water near a shoreline was almost as interesting as looking up at the rocky shores. 

Once again we had a tailwind and swells coming from the stern as we got out into the open water, and we made steady progress to St. Ignace, though it was a long day.  We could see the Canadian flag flying as we approached the bay where CPR Slip was located, and turned the corner into the protected harbor to see 2 big power cruisers at a well built, well maintained dock.  There were several buildings, in much better shape than those on Swede Island.   We landed and Jeff walked up to the folks who were sitting around a table, enjoying wine and other treats.  No plastic mugs or tin cups for this group … it was crystal stemware all around.

Nobody had gotten up to acknowledge us other than the dog.  I didn't hear the entire conversation, but there was a discussion of the site being open to all except for outfitters.  We told them we were a private group, and one of the folks asked "is that what they tell you to say?"  It quickly became apparent that we weren't welcome.  Did they really think we were with an outfitter and lying about it?  Did they not like our looks, all geared up with knives and assorted goofy hats?  Were we simply not their kind of people?  Who knows.

We ended up paddling over to Agate Island and camping on the northern shore, where we had both eastern and western sun and a far more pleasant campsite than if we had stayed at CPR Slip.  There was a nagging feeling that we should have stayed at the slip on principle, since the sauna was advertised as open to all, but it wouldn't have been a congenial evening.  We enjoyed our own private little corner of paradise while we ate dinner and watched the sun set.  In the calm water of the evening, we saw the lake rise and fall by 2-3 inches due to small seiches, covering and uncovering a small rock just off shore several times.  After dinner we discussed the next day's route, and decided to make for McCay Cove, another improved campsite with a picnic table and tent platform.  As we had come to expect, loons called across the lake as we fell asleep.

Day 4:  In the morning we paddled to Bowman Island, where there's an old fishing camp and also the grave of Thomas Lamphier.  He was the second of three lighthouse keepers on Talbot Island who died in the course of their duties.  Thomas and his wife were spending the winter on the island in 1869 when he fell ill and died.  His wife couldn't get off the island, and couldn't even bury his body on the solid rock.  In the spring, she flagged down a passing boat and they brought his body to Bowman and buried it.  The story goes that the wife's black hair turned white that winter.  The white cross that currently marks the grave, using the spelling Lampshire, was placed more recently.

Leaving Bowman, we crossed to Armour Harbor.  This brought us within the territory of Nirivia.  A group of folks had declared the 40 plus islands in Nipigon Bay to be a sovereign nation in 1979.  It was not so much a militant assertion of statehood as a means of drawing attention to the pristine nature of this area and the need to protect it.  There were no full time residents, but over the years some docks, cabins, and saunas were built, and visitors were invited to come and stay and appreciate the natural beauty of the place.  The latest edition of Bonnie Dahl's Superior Way says that the nation is no longer a going concern.  But apparently you become a citizen when you enter Nirivia, and though we didn't land, we decided that we had entered their national waters and had earned citizenship.

More tail winds pushed us along to McCay Cove, where we slipped into protected water through gaps between rocky islands.  We could see a tarp up on the campsite as we approached, but when we landed, we found no signs of boats or gear.  Eventually we pulled out the camp's log book and learned that a couple of people had been by recently to set up the tarp, and were planning on returning in a few days to spend a week there.  In the meantime, we were happy to stay and set up camp along with the local bunny population.  We made cheesecake after dinner and celebrated Jeff's birthday a few days early that night. 

Then it was time to listen to the weather and plan the next day.  It seemed that our run of ideal weather was about to end.  The next day's route would be straight east along the southern shores of St. Ignace and Simpson Islands.  The winds were forecast as 10 knots from the southeast in the morning, building to 15 knots by noon, and 20 in the afternoon.  The wind would be blowing across a long fetch, and had the potential to get interesting.  After passing Simpson Island, we would turn north through Wilson Channel.  A southeast wind approaching 20 knots and funnelling up the channel could get particularly interesting.  Thursday's forecast was a slightly windier version of Wednesday's, and Friday was even windier.

We decided to get up early and head for Rossport.  We could have taken a wind day and stayed put, but with steadily increasing winds forecast over the next few days, a day wasn't buying us much. 

Day 5:  We were on the water by 7:30 in the morning and paddled east into a headwind, maybe Force 3 building to Force 4.  We passed the Battle Island Lighthouse complex, with several white buildings.  The light is automated now, but the last keeper still lives there.

Past Simpson Island, we turned the corner to head north.  After about a mile, we paddled through a narrow opening between Harry and Minnie Islands, and the transition into calm and silence was almost startling after pushing through the wind and waves.  We paddled on to a campsite on the northwest corner of Minnie and took a break.  At that point we were about 4 miles from Rossport.  We discussed camping at Minnie and heading in Thursday morning.  Even though the winds were forecast to be higher the next day, if we started out first thing in the morning, the conditions should be comparable to the current conditions.

But rain, wind, and possible thunderstorms were forecast that afternoon and evening, and the winds forecast for the next two days sounded as if they would preclude exploring the Rossport Islands as we had hoped.  Camping Wednesday night in the wind and rain simply in order to get up early the next morning to paddle the last 4 miles didn't muster enough interest to make it a plan, so we continued on.

Back out in the channel, tail winds pushed us north to Rossport.  We could see the white buildings from afar, and then the red roofs.  We landed and were pleased to find the truck and trailer there, so we packed up and headed for home.  Crossing back into the States has become much more serious in recent years, but our re-entry was uneventful, and by mid afternoon we were back in Grand Marais.

Ending the trip on Wednesday instead of Saturday as originally planned was unexpected, but the strong winds that we heard forecast on Wednesday did materialize as I watched the weather on Thursday and Friday.  We didn't do as much exploring as we might have hoped, but had we still been 2 full days out from Rossport on Wednesday night, the conditions for the final stretch would have been more challenging through Friday evening.

All in all, it was a splendid trip with wonderful weather, gorgeous scenery, and good friends.  Doesn't get much better than that.  Photos are here.

Apostles over Independence Day Weekend

Deb and Michelle led a trip to the Apostles over the Independence Day weekend.    The plan was to base camp on Stockton on Thursday, Friday, and Saturday nights, returning on Sunday.

After a team picture, thirteen of us launched from the Red Cliff marina beach shortly after 10 on Thursday morning. As we were paddling out towards the pier, we saw a couple of young critters swimming in the water, with Mom following along behind.  Weasels?  Otters?   Jeff waited till they got out of the water and confirmed that they were weasels.

We paddled over to the Fedora before crossing over to Basswood.  There was a group of folks happily ensconced on the preferred landing beach on the northwest corner of Basswood, so we kept going to a less desirable landing area. We had a quick break, though there was really no beach, then got some snacks and headed over to Hermit.   Hermit is closed to all visitor use due to bear activity, so we paddled along the eastern edge, then over to Stockton, making it a long paddle without a break.

On Stockton we were able to get the 3 sites farthest from the visitor center, and we settled in.  Very nice sites, though the nearest vault toilet was closed, as the low lake level was preventing the park service from being able to get a boat in to empty it out.  That made for a long walk to the next available toilet.

Stockton is the largest of the islands in the park, at 10,000 acres.  There are several hiking options and an abandoned quarry on the island, though I've never had a chance to explore them.  There are a dock and visitor center and 19 campsites along the eastern shore of Presque Isle Bay.  The long, spread out line of campsites has both advantages and disadvantages.   Each site is nestled in the trees, separated from its neighbors, and has a great view of the water.  From a kayaker's perspective, it's easy to land on the beach below your campsite and carry your gear up a short bank.  The sites are in prime black bear habitat, though, and being so spread out, there's an increased risk of bear/human interactions.  And when bears get habituated to humans, either the bears or the humans have to be removed.  There are also concerns about bank erosion.  The park service has proposed a plan to move the Stockton campsites to the tombolo between Presque Isle Bay and Julian Bay, likely making it a longer walk from landing to campsites.   Another concern of the new location would be ensuring a safe landing option when there's a southwest wind.  With the existing sites, the landing is a sand beach, so if you dump in the surf, you can wade your boat in to shore.

On Friday, the group decided to paddle over to Michigan Island.  We looked at the lighthouses (two), had lunch, and talked to the park service volunteers who showed us around. 

After lunch, part of the group headed back to Stockton, while Jeff, Tony, Dave and I paddled up the eastern shore of Michigan.  On the northeast point, just off shore we could see Gull Island, the smallest of the Apostles.  It looks like a sand bar, though it's actually rock.  You can't approach it or land on it during the summer, so we simply paddled by.

After rounding Michigan, the wind and waves had picked up for our crossing back to Stockton.  We wanted to visit the Noquebay wreck before returning to camp, so we headed for Julian Bay.   In the bay, we searched the area of the GPS coordinates, but couldn't find anything in the rough water.  The wreckage is 8 - 12 feet under water and scattered along the bottom.  The group that had crossed straight back to Stockton did find it, but they had the eagle eyed Michelle along with them.

Rounding the tombolo back to Presque Isle Bay was a bit bouncy, and paddling back into the bay provided some good practice in a following sea.  The waves weren't quite big enough to surf on, so we landed and moved on to dinner.  Turns out that Stockton has good cell phone reception, and in one of the few moments of the trip that my phone was turned on and nearby, I got a happy birthday call from a friend.

Our site had pasta for dinner that night.  Tony made fresh pasta with dehydrated red sauce and tortellini. Joan had brought pre-made pasta frozen in a bag that simply had to be re-heated.  I made my dehydrated Sierra Spaghetti, and Fred had a couple of freeze dried entrees.  We tried them all, and all were pronounced good.

The weather outlook for Sunday had been less than ideal all along, and the details were getting filled in as Sunday drew nearer.  A low pressure system was heading our way from Montana.  We agreed to gather at 8:00 on Saturday morning to decide what to do.  If we were able to stick with our original plan, several folks wanted to hike on the island, and some wanted to paddle up the eastern shore of Stockton along the sea stacks and sea caves and then over to Outer Island for the day.

Come morning, though, it was an easy decision.  A lot of rain was forecast on Sunday, as well as extensive thunderstorms.  So we decided to cut the trip short, strike camp, and return a day early.  

On our way home, we wanted to take a break before leaving Stockton to avoid the long slog from our camp site to Basswood, especially since we were paddling into wind and waves. 

Three of us were 90 percent sure there was a landing option on the southwest corner of Stockton (does that make it a 270 percent likelihood?)  As we approached, I scouted ahead to make sure that the somewhat marginal beach we could see was in fact the best option available, and it was.

With the lake level lower and a southwest wind blowing up the North and West Channels, there were 1 foot plus waves coming in at an angle, and it was a trickier site to land on than it had been in calm water the previous year.  The shore was rocky, and there were rocks on the way in to be avoided.

Jeff landed while the main group waited off shore.  I scooted in as I returned from my scouting mission.  We had several people on the trip who had never landed in this kind of conditions.  Jeff guided the group in one at a time, avoiding the rocks in the water and making sure there was space on the shore to land on, and we got each person out of their boat.  I hadn't initially picked up on the fact that the waves were coming in at an angle, and had to adjust my position to stay "up-wave" of the boats as they got bounced about at the water's edge.  Michelle was watching the landing process from the water, and moved the group waiting to land farther over to improve the angle they were coming in on.

After lunch, we reversed the process and got everyone launched one at a time.  We picked up each boat, turned it around, put it in the water, steadied it, got the paddler in and spray skirt on and pushed them off.  As the person holding the sterns, I had two observations:  first, that boats without solid decklines are a pain (bungy cords are useless for steadying a boat), and second, when you're straddling the deck behind the cockpit to steady it and then shoving the boat out in the waves, attentiveness to the pointy end of the stern (and rudder, for boats with rudders) is essential until you're clear of the boat.

Most of us had a good bit of water to be bailed out before continuing on to Hermit.  Deb tried out her new automatic bilge pump.  Works great, although it needs a mounting system.  The rough water launch also provided a good lesson in why you don't want to store gear in your cockpit.  Once the boat gets water in it, that gear starts sloshing around, getting in your way as you try to get back in.

We crossed to Hermit, then to Basswood, where we had an easy landing.  After lunch, we headed to the Basswood dock, then crossed the channel back to Red Cliff.  The Red Cliff Ojibwe band was hosting a Pow Wow over the 4th, so we could hear drums as we approached, and the beach that had been empty when we launched was packed.

We quickly got our boats and gear loaded up and headed for home.  The "shower at the rec center" plan didn't work as the rec center was closed.

After I got home, I kept  an eye on the Weather Channel on Sunday morning, and there was one good sized storm that crossed the Apostles (lots of dark green and some orange on the weather map), followed by an area of heavy rain. Good decision to leave early!